


Werewolf in Blue Jeans

by TuppenceBee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppenceBee/pseuds/TuppenceBee
Summary: It’s three days before Sirius realises it’s the jeans.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Werewolf in Blue Jeans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [womenseemwicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/gifts).



> For the prompt:
> 
> oooh I always need more Remus/Sirius in my life and the thought of your take on them makes me VERY HAPPY. idk prompt-wise though? maybe something along the lines of Sirius coming to stay with Remus over a school break and getting some fun exposure to that ‘70s muggle culture he so rebelliously embraces? (I think Remus is canonically half-blood but that might just be fanon my brain has absorbed as truth over the years, now that I think of it). could be romantic, or cracky, or miserably pining!
> 
> Hope you like it! <3

It’s three days before Sirius realises it’s the jeans. He’s seen Remus in jeans, before. In fact, he’s seen Remus in _these_ jeans, with their lovingly mended patches holding them together. Mrs Lupin still likes to mend Remus’s muggle clothes, herself, and for the longest time Sirius had thought it was a bit daft. Now, it only makes something funny twinge in his chest.

But the point is: Remus in jeans. The last time Sirius was graced with the sight was at the Potters’ over the Christmas holidays. Remus must have had a growth spurt since then, though, because Sirius does not remember them being so _tight_. Sirius can see…well, everything. It’s indecent. It’s torturous.

Jeans are horrible, wicked things! Whoever invented them should be thoroughly hexed.

Sirius glances over to where Moony is standing on his tip-toes, precariously balanced on a chair as he reaches on top of a cupboard, and has a change of heart. (Or of some significant organ, at least). Jeans might be the most genius muggle invention Sirius has encountered, yet.

Heat rushes him, confusing in its newness when brought on by Remus of all people. It’s not…it’s not right. Remus is all angles and bony elbows and pokey knees and a surprisingly lovely—

Merlin, Sirius is never going to survive summer at the Lupins. Not that Sirius has to stare so much at Remus’s arse _quite_ so much, but how can he not when Remus insists on wearing such things?

A pathetic, whimpering sigh comes from somewhere, the kind James used to make whenever Evans walked by, and Sirius realises with great horror it was _him_. He, Sirius Black, sighing over Remus bloody Lupin.

‘What was that, Padfoot?’ Remus says, stepping back onto the floor, and turning to Sirius. He’s covered in dust, and red-faced, and, bloody hell, he’s gorgeous. When did that happen?

The afternoon light filtering through the windows catches the gold in Remus’ mousy hair, brings out the freckles on his pale skin.

‘Padfoot,’ Remus prompts.

‘Jeans,’ Sirius blurts.

Remus arches a brow. ‘Pardon?’

‘I…’ _Quick, Black, think of a cover_. He wants to buy jeans. No, no, he doesn’t have any muggle money and he doesn’t want to go into the strange little village nearby, not when he can be alone with Remus, instead.

‘What about jeans, Sirius?’

‘The jeans song!’ Yes, that’s it. ‘Put it on again, will you?’

‘Sirius!’ Remus huffs, that long-suffering you-will-be-the-death-of-me-Black huff that Sirius usually delights in. ‘I’ve just spent twenty minutes finding this box of records because you wanted to listen to something different, and now you want to listen to the one that’s already on the stereo?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re a bastard,’ Remus says, but he’s smiling as he makes the whatsit play the song again.

‘Don’t be like that, Moony,’ Sirius says from where he’s still lying on the floor. Got a great view of Moony’s…no. He swallows thickly and says, ‘I know you love me, really,’ and his stomach does a very slow and very complicated somersault.

‘Ah, yes, professors and barmaids and skinny werewolves, alike, all crumble before the Black charm.’

Sirius flushes, but he _is_ a Black, and he might not be proud of that, but he can still school his face into a haughty expression and look down the length of his nose at Remus. (From the floor, even, that’s how good the Blacks are at looking down their noses). ‘It’s only natural,’ he says.

Remus rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, the hint of white crooked teeth peeking between his thin lips as he comes to sit beside Sirius. ‘I didn’t think you liked this song.’

’S’all right.’

Remus drums his hands on his knees and sings along. ‘ _I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on. Cha-cha._ ’ He’s out of time and off-key, but Sirius can’t stop watching him, warmth spreading all through him in the most delicious way.

And then Remus catches Sirius staring and he pokes his tongue out and, somehow, this of all things makes Sirius want to _kiss_ him.

Well. That’s that then.

Sirius’s ears ring and he’s gone hot all over and his chest is tight and— ****

‘All right, Pads?’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius says, blinking over at Remus. He forces himself to smile, and finds it’s not as hard as he thought it would be. He breathes out. ‘I’m great.’

Remus smiles back, closing his eyes and humming softly. He’s leaning on one hand, tilted toward Sirius, oblivious of Sirius’s revelation.

So, Sirius wants to kiss Remus. It could be worse. The more he thinks about it, the less strange it becomes, and the tightness in him eases into a feeling that’s more like ‘yes’ and ‘right.’

Now, he only needs to find out if Remus wants to kiss him, too. He could ask or just kiss Remus and see what happens. But as he eyes the length of Remus’s neck where it disappears into the collar of his shirt, the hint of a scar peeking out, there is a twinge in his chest.

No, being rash could ruin things again. Sirius can’t have that. A small smile tilts his lips, though, because this seems like something that needs careful planning and scheming and he does love a good scheme.

As much as he loves—

Oh, bloody hell.

That’s too much for today. So, he lets his eyes drift shut, delighting in the warm breeze blowing across his skin, and leans into the press of Remus against his side. He hums along to the tune playing and thinks what wonderful things jeans are.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> I’ve loved this ship for nearly 20 years (!!!) but I’ve never written anything for them! So this was exciting and terrifying tbh
> 
> Also, I went into this wanting Sirius to confess/for them to kiss but they wouldn’t cooperate so it’s just a bit of self-realisation and pining for now ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> ETA: I completely spaced on saying the 'jeans song' Sirius refers to is 'Jeans On' by David Dundas


End file.
